


In Vino Veritas

by Jaye_Voy



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunk Tom Paris has an interesting conversation with Chakotay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

> An experiment in POV. Part one is Chakotay's perspective, the conclusion Tom's.  
> Originally written in 2002. Although there are some tweaks. The story's contents (and its flaws) are mostly intact.  
> Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is PG-13 for language and suggestions of m/m sex.

PART ONE

I knew I was on clean-up duty the moment Kathryn turned to me, her little nose wrinkled in a definite snit. "I thought Tom could hold his liquor," she muttered irritably.

"Maybe he's had more than usual. That's easy to do during a celebration. After all, it's not every day his best friend gets engaged to his ex-lover." I hoped that's all it was, that Tom had simply lost track of the amount of beer he'd been drinking---or forgotten that it was the real stuff. I definitely didn't like the alternative, that he was drowning his sorrows.

"Chakotay, he's going to fall down any minute." She frowned. "We can't have a bridge officer making a spectacle of himself."

I accepted my fate with a sigh. "Would you like me to give him a hand finding his cabin?"

Kathryn turned with a pleased smile and quick pat, as if it really was all my idea. "That's very kind of you. I'll make sure people go back to thinking about the main event, not Mr. Paris's would-be floor show."

I nodded. "If you could also have the Doc send a detox shot to Tom's room, I'll make sure he's sober by the time I tuck him in."

"No..." Kathryn's expression turned thoughtful. "I'll have the EMH program a hangover remedy---for some time *after* Tom sleeps it off. I'm also going to disable the comm in there for the duration so he can't call and ask for one. The Lieutenant needs to be reminded that there are reasons he shouldn't drink real alcohol."

I was suddenly glad I never revealed my few vices to her, either in the capacity of Captain or friend. I didn't like to think what she'd consider doing to teach *me* a lesson for my own good. "See you at noon tomorrow," I said and stood to take my drunken subordinate in hand.

Tom was just finishing his latest beer, almost tipping the tall glass mug upside-down to get the last few drops hiding under the remnants of foam. I deliberately avoided watching the Adam's apple bob in that long, pale throat. This was not a time to be reminded of my hidden fantasies or wistful dreams.

Instead I slid next to him as he lazed at the resort's bar, his whole body seemingly held up by the press of his forearms against the rough wood surface.

"Hey," I said, my tone light, "Was that your one for the road?"

"Chakotay!" Tom greeted me with unprecedented delight. "Chakotay, Chakotay, Chakotay---how the hell are you, Big Man?"

Uh-oh. My fair and suddenly overly friendly Lieutenant was obviously three sheets to the wind. "Fine, thanks. Ready for bed, though." 

I think he perked up a little, focusing on holding up his end of the conversation, so I continued. "Want me to give you a lift home?"

"Mmmm...yeah, that's a swell idea, Chak." The usually coordinated blond nearly sent himself sprawling to the floor in an uncontrolled slide off the bar. 

Fortunately, I caught him by the arms, steadying him as he continued his vocal rambling. "I can show you what I've picked out for Harry and B'El. Y'know, to say no hard feelings, best of luck, happy birthday---whatever."

"I'm sure it'll be perfect, Tom. Why don't we go look at it now?" I started assisting him through the holodeck. The chattering, laughing crowd of crew still celebrating the good news seemed to take no notice of our rather unsteady progress. It's hard to steer someone when they seem intent on climbing all over you. I swear Tom was vertically sprawled over my shoulders like I was a walking sofa or something.

Still, he wasn't giving me any resistance, or even the usual sass as we made it to the turbolift. I ordered it to travel to Deck Four. 

"That's not your deck," Tom informed me helpfully as he lifted his head from where he'd curled it behind my neck. His eyes blinked owlishly as they peered across the 5.5 centimeters of space separating them from mine.

I nearly staggered at the puff of fermented air he blew up my nose along with his words. I firmly peeled his arms from around my shoulders and set him squarely on his feet, then leaned him against the wall when it was obvious he wasn't going to stay upright on his own. "I know. We're going to your place so you can show me your gift, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Tom's face brightened into such a sweet, happy smile I caught my breath. It was an open, unguarded expression, one I seldom saw on his very handsome face. The kind of look that had made me fall helplessly in love with the mercurial man.

Helplessly and hopelessly in love. The hostilities between us had been put aside almost two years ago, after he admitted he did agree to betray my cell and I conceded that I wasn't giving him the same clean slate I myself had gotten from Janeway. 

It seemed once we both acknowledged we were wrong, the anger just disappeared and we began to socialize regularly. I wouldn't call us good friends, though, more like better-than-casual acquaintances. 

By the time I recognized my own tender feelings, Tom had begun his dance with B'Elanna. Their affair lasted longer than I expected, but eventually their too-similar emotional backgrounds and completely divergent interests drove them apart.

I think Tom may have been looking to Harry for his next try at friends-turned-lovers, but then the younger man began squiring B'Elanna around the resort. Tom hid in Sandrine's for a while, but their friendships eventually regained their equilibrium. Tom will be Harry's best man at the wedding.

Although I feel badly for Tom, I have to admit that Harry seems a better match for my fierce yet vulnerable friend. He is...easier for B'Elanna to understand, I think. Harry has never pretended to be anything except honest, optimistic, intelligent, innovative, loyal, and now loving. 

B'Elanna's personal history has left her uncertain about many things. Having such a steadfast, uncomplicated man to ground her has given her the courage to explore her weaknesses and accept her many strengths. Besides, it's obvious they adore each other. 

My own unspoken yearnings didn't lessen my empathy for Tom's disappointment. Those emotions never really entered into the equation. Tom has never flashed those baby blues my way, and I am far too vulnerable to his sarcasm to deliberately open myself to it by blurting out things he'd rather not know. So there's no reason to feel glad that Tom is alone.

Instead, unrequited love seems to have made me wish the happiness of a deeply heartfelt relationship for Tom, even if it can't be with me. I simply don't think Harry would be any better for him than B'Elanna. 

I deliberately avoid speculating on who would. I may be a romantic sap but I'm not a masochist. I'll bury my dreams when the time comes; until then I won't deliberately torture myself with wondering who will soar with that free spirit. 

We finally reached Tom's quarters. His loose-limbed, somewhat diagonal walk continued into the cabin as he bulldozed us to his bed. He plopped down, pulling me with him. Unfortunately, his maneuverings left me closer to his bedside table, so he practically dove over my thighs to rummage in what looked like a pretty overstuffed drawer. I compiled warp vector equations while thinking about naked Cardassians to keep my body under control as my dream man gave me a rather bizarre unintentional lap dance. All I'd need is to have to explain to a soused Tom Paris why my dick was suddenly poking him in the stomach.

I almost lost the battle as that blond head turned my way and a mischievous grin beamed over Tom's shoulder. "Close your eyes," he demanded coyly, then hiccuped. 

"What? Can't you just let me see it?" I was getting a little desperate to be anywhere but touching that too-tempting body.

"Nope. I need to get your unvarnished first reaction. So..." He was obviously not going to move until I complied. I sighed and gave in. For a moment I just sat in agonized silence as Tom writhed a little more and I moved a lot closer to my breaking point. Then there was a click, a klink, and a snick. During that last sound I felt something secured around my wrist.

I opened my eyes and my mouth followed almost immediately. I was now handcuffed to Tom, the fairly long chain connecting us snaking through a hoop that looked newly inserted in the bulkhead. A tiny keypad with a small screen hung from the metal circlet on the wall.

"Gotcha!" Tom crowed as he crawled over my legs and settled himself on one pillow. He tugged the ring in demonstration. "Even the mighty Maquis Warrior won't be able to get this out without a crowbar. And the cuffs won't open unless I punch in the code."

I moved to kneel on the other pillow, pulling at the hoop. He was right---it was stuck fast. I then quickly examined the chains and cuffs, but they too were unbreakable. I turned and matched Tom's pose, resting my back against the bulkhead with my legs crossed at the ankle. It was obvious from the dazed blue of Tom's eyes that he was still sloshed.

I tapped my commbadge and nearly groaned at its unresponsiveness. I'd forgotten Kathryn's plan to keep Tom incommunicado until he suffered through his hangover. I was going to have to talk my way out of this one. "So, this is your gift for Harry and B'Elanna?" I asked casually.

"Yep." Tom's rapidly bobbing head also confirmed it.

"It's...very nice. I'm sure they'll really appreciate it." I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "How about you let us go now and put it back in the drawer, hmmm?"

"Not a chance, Chak." Tom's body seemed to ooze down along the bed until he rested full length on the mattress. The cuff on his wrist gleamed as he folded his hands over his stomach with a satisfied sigh. "I've got you right where I want you."

"You do?" I asked stupidly. I'm not positive I sounded stupid, but the odds were good so I figured I'd just admit it going in.

"Uh-huh," Tom replied smugly. Then he flashed those baby blues at me---well, not flashed exactly. It was more like they took a long slow glide up my casual trousers and button-down shirt like they were doing aerial maps of the undiscovered country underneath them. I'll bet Tom found a pretty stunned expression on my face by the time he stopped lingering on certain spots and finally made his way up that high.

Then he leaned up on his elbow, suddenly eager to share some secret. "Can you guess what I want you here for?"

"Um, no." This situation was bad enough. I wasn't going to help Tom humiliate either one of us.

Tom didn't answer right away. He seemed focused on my mouth, his gaze heated. I could almost feel my lips swelling, blood filling them as if I'd already been kissed. Then his expression grew dreamy, golden lashes drifting half-closed. "Did you know, Chak, that half the time you're speaking I don't hear a word you say?"

"No, I didn't." I'd have been highly insulted if I wasn't distracted by that enchanting face. I was so besotted I didn't even protest the change in subject. I just uncrossed my legs and listened.

"Mmmhmmm," Tom continued with a lazy blink. "I get lost in watching your mouth. Ripe, lush, full, rosy...I bet your lips are soft, and sweet. And once they part everything is hot, wet honey within."

I peered into Tom's face, trying to figure out if he was serious, deluded or playing some kind of prank. His eyes were dilated but still glazed---I bet his inhibitions were lowered and quite possibly, his outlook a little fuzzy. 

After that much beer, the Doc would probably be looking good to Tom right about now. I needed to keep in mind that Kathryn might just as easily have been the focus of this little verbal seduction. It hurt, but I gave myself a stern warning not to get too carried away. 

"Don't frown." Tom's face mirrored my expression as he shimmied back up to my level. One long pale finger traced my down-turned lips.

It took a good bit of willpower not to lick that wandering digit before his voice jerked me back to attention.

"I hate that," he pouted. "You have such a beautiful smile, I want to see it all the time. I waited forever to see you smile at me. Just for me."

That admission, real or not, stirred remorse. "I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose. Just...the way things were."

"I know." Tom gave a vigorous nod. "But we're better now. Aren't we?"

Tom's face was so hopeful I couldn't resist. I smiled, and he rewarded me with one of his own. Then without missing a beat he rolled so he was straddling my body, his long legs hugging my hips while his hands began unbuttoning my shirt. 

I was still braced against the bulkhead, trapped. Plus he'd moved so fast I didn't have time to prevent my body from responding to the electric sensation of being pressed to the star of my wet dreams. I did manage to catch those determined fingers before they'd gotten very far. A small victory but I'd take it.

I couldn't help my moan when Tom dipped his head to kiss the small bit of skin he had managed to uncover. His mouth worked up and down my throat, with his teeth stopping for samples along the way. Then he pressed a little closer to me to whisper in my ear. I didn't even mind the beer on his breath this time. 

His hard-on found a spot right near my own, and I couldn't seem to stop my hips from lifting to welcome it to the neighborhood.

"I watch your ass, too, Chak." Tom's hands were shifting in mine, probably wanting to slide down to demonstrate how well they knew where my ass was.

I tightened my grip slightly, determined to prevent their wanderings. "Oh?" I managed to croak.

"Oh is right. Oh yeah, oh baby. The uniform doesn't do those glutes justice." Tom sighed in rapture. "I want to fuck you so badly. Sweet and slow so I can watch my cock sink into the best butt in the Delta Quadrant. Then hard and fast. You have an ass that just begs for it, Chak, and I want to give it to you. Over and over."

My hips shifted again as I realized how tight my pants were becoming. Not to mention how intrigued my nipples were by the tickle of Tom's chest hair through two layers of cloth. The sensations were incredibly arousing, and his words were loosening my control.

Damn, I could practically feel Tom in me already, his balls tight against my crack. But before I could be so far bedazzled by desire I offered Tom my body---or worse still, my heart---I took another look at the mental picture he'd painted for me. As far as I was concerned, it needed some revisions. 

"That sounds awfully one-sided. Isn't variety the spice of life?" I could hear the caution in my comment. I was sure my eyes narrowed as they probed still-hazy blue counterparts. I was very interested in Tom's response. 

Drunk or no, if I didn't like what I heard I'd trash his little fantasy world in a heartbeat. I enjoy a wild ride or satin slide as often as the next man, but I'm nobody's 24/7 bottom boy. Even in a relationship that only exists in Tom's alcohol-fogged brain. Or my own love-addled one.

Then my heart stopped a moment at the expression of hope and wonder that crossed Tom's face. It started up again immediately, but now it was pounding.

Those sky-colored eyes were wide and his voice trembling as Tom whispered---whispered! "Would you want that? To touch me, claim me, make me yours?" His fingers stirred in mine again and I let them go, still trapped by that stunned, stunning gaze. 

Tom's fingers curled around my own and brought them up to meet Tom's lips for a quick string of kisses. I could barely breathe, I was so in the moment.

"I remember overhearing B'Elanna and Seska talking once, when I was still in the Maquis." Tom's breath seemed to be hitching too. 

I automatically freed one hand to slide the hair from his forehead, stroking, soothing. I felt tears burn my eyes as he closed his own a moment before speaking again. "B'El was asking Seska why she was so persistent in going after you, why she was so desperate to get you back. She answered that she felt bereft without your arms around her at night, your touch on her skin. In passion you were strong but so gentle...so tender. Even if you didn't love her you still made her feel loved."

Tom dropped his eyes and swallowed. When they returned to mine I saw they were glittering. "I want that touch, Chakotay, that embrace. I've been too much of a coward to tell you. It took me so long to admit it to myself. And tonight at the party I realized that Harry and B'El were getting that whole enchilada of love and marriage, with extra hot sauce...and a side order of eternal bliss...maybe a couple kids meals...and I can't even get a lousy take-out menu. So I drank one beer and then another and then another---"

"Shhh...it's OK, everything's OK." I gently pressed Tom's head to my shoulder, all desire gone in the wake of his teary-eyed confession. 

I rubbed his back as he snuggled into me. I couldn't make a declaration of my own. As fervently as I wanted to believe these late-night revelations, I wasn't sure I was talking to the real Tom Paris. I had a sinking suspicion that Tom had gone from manic to depressive, a happy to a sad drunk. 

I'd seen it happen before, early in our journey, when he'd had a late night at Sandrine's. And as I recall Tom never meant a word he said while inebriated, no matter how chipper or maudlin or even sincere he seemed at the time. I looked up at the ceiling and struggled with whether to listen to my heart or my head.

A light snore broke the fruitless swirl of indecision. Tom was fast asleep. I shook my head, pressed a smiling kiss to his brow, then gently shifted him to lie beside me.

I tugged one last time at the chain, but it was solid. I was stuck in Tom Paris's bed until morning. I only hesitated a moment before divesting my bedmate of his shoes, socks and slacks. His shirt, like mine, couldn't be removed since we wouldn't be able to slide out of the sleeves.

I undressed to the same degree and managed to move us both under the covers and get the lights turned off without waking him. I froze when I felt that lanky body shift so Tom's head rested on my shoulder once more. Then I shrugged and let things be. I threaded my fingers through Tom's so the chain wouldn't pull tight during the night, laid my cheek against his hair, and closed my eyes. I wouldn't take any of this night's events at face value. Until Tom repeated himself while stone-cold sober, all of this was no more than a beautiful memory to coax me into sleep.

But for the first time, I did more than dream. I dared to hope.

========================================================  
========================================================

PART TWO (CONCLUSION)

Bleah. My mouth felt slimy, as if three dozen centipedes had scampered through it. That wouldn't have been so bad, but they forgot to wipe off their muddy sneakers before making the journey. Or maybe they did wipe them off---on my tongue.

My eyes were gritty, my head about two sizes too big and four times as heavy. No doubt about it, I had one major hangover. I knew better than to groan and make the pain even worse.

I even felt a little seasick, which didn't make sense on a starship. After a moment or two I finally figured out that I *was* moving. Not the "Yeah we're all moving because Voyager's cruising along at warp six" kind of thing. This was up and down, not that subtle forward push that most times you don't even notice.

So why am I moving up and down?

Bringing a few more sluggish brain cells on line, I started receiving data from my numbed nerve endings. I was lying down, sort of halfway between my side and stomach. Under some blankets. Bed seemed like a fair guess as to where most of my body was. Those parts weren't moving. My head and arm were somewhere else. They *were* moving, and I was definitely not burying my face in a pillow. This surface was not that yielding.

But it was soft and warm. And breathing. Shit. My eyes blinked open and I stared forward. Of course, the lights were off so what I mainly saw in the streaking starlight was the back of the chair from my desk. I knew it was my desk because it was cluttered with my stuff and the chair still had a towel haphazardly slung over it. The bed was in shadow, or else whatever---all right, whoever---I was lying on was draped in something dark. We definitely weren't skin to skin. Which was just as well because I had no clue who the hell I apparently got horizontal with last night.

I decided to look on the bright side. At least I was guaranteed to know my bedmate's name. There were only 143 people to choose from.

I yawned and my hand automatically lifted to cover my mouth. The tinkling didn't register at first, but the sudden slide of cold metal on the side of my neck certainly did. I stared at the silvery handcuff on my wrist. It looked awfully familiar. In fact, it looked exactly like the Klingon-proof one I had replicated recently as a gag gift for my betrothed buddies.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to recall what happened last night. I remember beer---lots of it. And wishing Harry and B'Elanna every happiness, et cetera, et cetera. I made a witty speech. OK, I made a speech that *I* thought was witty. And then had more beer.

Wrinkling my brow and clenching my fists didn't help me remember anything more and just increased my headache, so I stopped and flopped myself onto my pillow, which was not moving.

To my eternal chagrin, picture-perfect recollections of my drunken escapades usually turned up from under some rock in my brain during the day after. I just had to wait for them to show. But I was really worried. Getting handcuffed on the first date was not my usual style. Then again, getting totally sloshed wasn't my style either. Not anymore. I pondered that truth as I lifted up my shirt for a good belly scratch. Then I realized I was wearing a shirt. I peered downward---I still had my boxers, too.

I relaxed back onto the pillow, my spirits much improved despite the hangover. Maybe this was just some silly engagement-party prank. Mindful of my aching head, I called up dim lights and carefully turned on my side, rising up to see who was in on the joke.

shitShitSHitSHItSHIT! It was no joke. It couldn't be. I was chained to Chakotay.

I confirmed it, using my eyes to follow the damning dangling metal links through a hoop on the wall to the cuff adorning one golden-brown wrist. Chakotay was still asleep, his breaths even, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.

One quick peek under the blanket reassured me that he was still clothed as well. Damn sexy legs, too. I hurriedly covered him back up, not wanting to be caught being a Peeping Tom.

I just sat there a moment, stunned. If the situation weren't so bizarre, I'd have been thrilled to wake with this treasure in my bed. It would fulfill some of my most deeply hidden fantasies.

And hidden is the operative word here. I desperately hide the truth that I desire---hell probably even love---the enigmatic Mystic Warrior. The way teenage boys hide the fact they study ballet. You just don't want other people to know. They start looking at you funny.

He's never batted those big brown eyes at me. Besides, how likely is it that the two of us could go from hating each other's guts to holding each other's hearts. 

And I can't *believe* I get so sloppily poetic when I think about Chakotay. I still cringe at "Ode on a Dorvan Tattoo." Sheesh. I wish the part of my brain that keeps pretending to be a bard would just die of embarrassment already.

Sure, we've put aside all the "Traitorous Scum/Hypocritical Bastard" glaring and shouting matches we indulged in for the first few months on Voyager. And I have to give the Big Man credit. He may have wanted to pound my ass into the deck then, but he didn't---and wouldn't let anybody else, either. 

Although I'd *never* admit it, I was kind of impressed. He kept the foaming, slavering packs of rabid 'Fleet and Maquis from tearing me into little dripping bite-sized chunks. A lesser man would probably have pulled up a chair and some popcorn and cheered them on while taking holopics to gleefully cackle over later.

But we're not close. We hang out together sometimes, yeah, but never alone. Maybe friends, not pals or chums or buds. And having Chakotay respect and like me is more than I ever thought possible. 

So I'm not going to throw that away by confessing my feelings. It's not worth the risk of seeing him lift one sable-winged brow in disdain while those bee-stung, honey-sweet lips curl into a sneer. 

OK, OK, Chakotay's beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. Just give it up with the adjectives already, will ya? I sighed. Of course my brain never listens.

I keep my smart-alecky Flyboy face on most of the time we're together. But I do watch him---hard body and soft heart---when I know he's not looking. And dream about him. And whack off to vivid images of him taking me and giving himself in return. And go to sleep aching for his arms around me. But it's not like I'd ever *do* anything about it.

So how the hell did Chakotay end up in my bed? *Chained*?!?!

I set my elbow into my pillow, propping my too-large head on my hand. The sight of a sleeping Chakotay was soothing to my sore eyes. He was so fucking adorable, his hair tousled, his strong face relaxed and that wonderfully curved mouth slightly smiling.

My cock decided he was also adorably fuckable. This time I did groan.

The sound must have reached Chakotay on some level, because he started to stir, brows drawing together slightly as if he were unconsciously trying to solve some puzzle. 

Then his lashes fluttered a time or two and those soul-stealing brown eyes were looking up at me.

"Good morning," Chakotay said with a smile like a sunrise.

"Um, hi," I mumbled as I raised the lights a little more. I was acutely aware that while he looked delectable, I probably resembled something the cat wouldn't drag to the dump. I lifted my wrist, letting the chain swing. "I'm guessing this was my bright idea?"

Chakotay blinked a couple times as his face shifted through half a dozen expressions to end up a portrait of perfect neutrality. He cleared his throat, then said, "Yes. You were showing me a gift for Harry and B'Elanna. I guess you wanted to check if it worked."

"So I tested it on you? On us?" Even with the dryness of morning-after dehydration, my voice was pretty loud. I winced as the sound assaulted my sensitive eardrums.

"Well, I didn't exactly volunteer here, Tom. You sort of snuck up on me." Chakotay had shifted to sit up, wrapping his arms around his blanket-draped knees. "Do you think you could release the cuffs now?"

I automatically knelt on the pillow and reached for the keypad, then paused and turned to study Chakotay more carefully, startling away his sad, wistful expression. 

The mask came back, heightening my suspicions. Chakotay doesn't lie well and knows it, so when there's a chance he may need to fudge the facts he usually goes stone-faced. "What exactly happened last night?"

His wary eyes searched mine. "You really don't remember?"

I shifted, uncomfortable under that incredulous gaze. "No." I should probably have said "Not yet," but over the years I've found it useful to withhold that little tidbit. It lets me compare notes on the sly.

Chakotay rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed a little unsure how to answer, but finally he shrugged and said, "Nothing too elaborate. You looked like you'd had a few too many, so I walked you back to your cabin. You wanted to show me the gift, I closed my eyes, the next thing I knew we were chained together. The comm system was down, so we had a brief conversation and went to sleep. End of story."

The slide of those dark eyes away from mine warned me there was more to it than that. "What did we talk about?"

I couldn't believe it---Chakotay blushed. It was hard to see between the low lights and his bronze skin, but the patches of red on his cheeks were undeniable. I also couldn't believe my reaction.

Sly, glance-from-under-the-lashes coyness doesn't do a thing for me. But having the powerful, stoic Maquis Warrior reveal a trace of bashful shyness turned me on like nobody's business. My cock *definitely* liked the hint of vulnerability, and the rest of my body heartily agreed. I was so busy struggling to stay on my side of the bed I almost missed his answer.

"It was just, uh, things we'd seen on Voyager, maybe a few things we might like to do someday." Chakotay had obviously decided that his safest strategy was to say as little as possible. 

I really, really wanted to remember for myself, but screwing my eyes shut in concentration only made them sting even more. My grimace was a mix of frustration and genuine discomfort.

"Are you all right?" Chakotay's soft voice soothed my ears even as his hand on my shoulder relaxed my muscles. I opened my eyes to see concern tightening his features. For some reason that warmed my insides, easing my pain even more.

"Hangover," I explained, and couldn't stop a short slide closer to Chakotay so those kneading fingers could reach my neck. I don't think either of us noticed that I was now getting a one-handed massage as we stared at each other.

I couldn't read the expression in Chakotay's eyes. He seemed to be uncertain, for I'd swear his mouth opened to speak then was firmly clamped shut. Then he dropped his gaze and licked his lips, and shit I wanted that tongue in *my* mouth.

My body was halfway across the reduced space between us before I caught myself, jerking back with an involuntary whimper at the effort to re-balance my heavy head while mentally shouting all the reasons that kissing Chakotay would be a *very bad idea*. 

I whimpered again when those warm, caressing fingers left abruptly. I wasn't ready for the loss. I hadn't gotten to the part of the lecture where being touched by him was also a no-no.

I looked to see that comforting hand had retreated to join its counterpart in grasping Chakotay's elbows. He seemed to be sitting a little straighter, maybe more stiffly. I know his voice matched perfectly.

"The Doc is supposed to be sending you some relief for your symptoms. If you let us go I can get the replicator to cough it up now rather than later."

"Oh, yeah, sure." I fumbled over to the keypad once more and punched in my cabin number. Fortunately it worked. Apparently I didn't have time last night to shift the code to something more elaborate. Otherwise we'd have had to wait for my brain to spit out the info or call for help. 

It was bad enough *Chakotay* knew I'd chained him up in some drunken flight of fancy. No way we'd live down the humiliation if anyone else found out.

I sighed as the cuffs popped open, then just watched as Chakotay slid out of bed and immediately went to the replicator. I could tell from the pull of his shirt across his back that he was tense.

My mind blanked on what to do. Apologize for handcuffing him? Say I'm sorry for not remembering I did it? Or just keep my mouth shut to not make things worse? If I'm lucky, at least our professional relationship will survive unaffected.

Our barely-there personal one was at risk, though, and I wanted it intact. I just couldn't bear to lose it. I scuttled down to sit at the foot of the bed and hunched miserably.

My downcast eyes got another good look at Chakotay's gorgeous gams and cute feet as he stopped in front of me. I felt the light brush of a hypospray on my neck and my head almost immediately felt better. The nervous clench of my stomach had a different cause, though, so the hangover remedy didn't work on that.

A tawny hand showed up next, this one holding a tall glass of water. "You're dehydrated, Tom, so drink up."

I took the glass and lifted my eyes. Chakotay's shoulders were less tense, and his expression was more relaxed. Whatever had been bothering him, he'd obviously made a decision or gotten over it or figured it wasn't worth the indigestion. 

He gestured with his other hand, which was holding the used hypospray and a toothbrush. "Mind if I use your bathroom?" he asked, brows raised.

"Knock yourself out," I replied flippantly as I straightened. Since Chakotay seemed to have chosen to forget whatever happened, it was time to resume our regularly scheduled roles, which called for the Flyboy to make his appearance on the scene.

The second that beautiful bod disappeared though, I went back to my slump. I couldn't shake the feeling that being in the dark about last night was a really bad thing. And I was sure that I'd gotten all I would from the other member of my personal chain gang. I grunted and drank the water. Until my fuzzy memory decided to focus, I wouldn't have a clue.

I stood, stretched, and moved to set the glass on the desk. I dug out a fresh towel and washcloth and found my robe. Luckily for me I only had a half-shift today, leaving plenty of time for a long, hot shower. After that I would be ready to get back to the business of being Tom Paris, playboy and pilot extraordinaire.

Chakotay came out looking wonderfully fresh. Despite the lack of a shower he still smelled good too as I shuffled by him on the way to my own clean-up. At the bathroom door I stopped and turned.

Brown eyes questioned my pause as Chakotay straightened from where he was gathering his clothes. "Are you all right, Tom?"

"Are *we* all right, Chakotay?" I really had to know.

I received a nod and a bright, warm smile. It unknotted my gut and I leaned against the doorway a moment in relief. I bit my lip, wondering if I should seize the moment by seizing the man and kissing him senseless.

Telling myself sternly that I had better start using my brain for sober realities instead of drunken dreams, I walked into the bathroom. Maybe what I really needed to do was soak my head.

I managed to keep from running out of the shower to tackle Chakotay and prevent him from leaving. And do some other interesting things while we were both conveniently lying on the floor. By the time I turned the water off I was resenting my own willpower.

The toothbrush soon got rid of the slime and the mud and whatever else had been noxiously coating my mouth. As I rinsed and spit one last time I suddenly remembered what happened last night. Everything that happened.

I lifted my face to stare at the stunned fellow in the mirror. Yep, he looked like his slightly bloodshot blue eyes were popping right out of his wet blond head.

Chakotay simply offered to see a tipsy colleague home and I slathered myself all over him like peanut butter on toast. Both on the road and again after I chained him to my bed---and to me. 

Then I clued him in on what went on in my favorite personal bedtime stories. And last but not least I spilled my now-ready-to-puke-with-horror guts about why I lusted after him. And how it really wasn't lust at all.

SHITSHItSHitShitshit. I couldn't believe how depressed I got when I realized he didn't take me up on my blatant offer. I mean, I know he wouldn't try anything. But he didn't try *anything*. Not even one little kiss.

My eyes were stinging again but this time a hypospray wouldn't help. My robe was practically falling off my dejected shoulders as I skulked back in the bedroom to pull out my uniform and begin what was going to be the worst day of my life.

I didn't get two steps past the doorway before I found myself yanked into a strong embrace. Ripe, lush, full, rosy lips were on mine, kissing me like there was no tomorrow. And damn, they were warm and soft and sweet. When they parted to invite me further I sank into a pool of hot, wet, minty goodness.

My head automatically tilted for deeper access as my hands ran down Chakotay's back to where they knew his ass was despite the cover of his trousers. Those luscious globes overspilled my grip but I just held on tighter and welcomed the low moan that rose from a bronze throat to sail down mine.

I returned it with interest when very knowing fingers slid to check out my buns for freshness. A solid squeeze made me wriggle in pleasure, encouraging more explorations.

Instead, Chakotay backed off, dropping his hands, licking and sucking my lips a moment before he let them go. 

I stared into his big, brown, loving, terrified eyes as he took a deep breath and blurted, "Look, you may not remember this but last night you said you wanted me and that you wanted to be mine. And, well, I'd like that too. That is, I like you. More than like you. A lot. And I was hoping you would give us a chance." He ran out of breath and stood still. He looked scared stiff.

"And you waited until now to mention it because...?" I was bursting with excitement and happiness and lust and love and, honestly, curiosity. Also I wanted to make the Big Man sweat a moment, since I knew I'd be squirming years from now when the grandkids asked us the story of how we got together.

He blushed again. Yum. I couldn't wait to see how far below his collar that rosy tint went. "Well, to be honest, it was your breath. I knew I was going to kiss you, even if you slugged me for it, but frankly we both needed some time with a toothbrush first." He tilted his chin. "So, are you going to slug me?"

"Nope, I'm going to buy you a drink." I laughed at Chakotay's suddenly confused expression. "Coffee. Or tea. In the Mess Hall. Maybe with breakfast?" By the end I knew my voice was as hopeful as my pathetically wide eyes. 

I also knew I wasn't going to give a shit if people *did* look at me funny. As long as Chakotay kept looking at me like he was now, with love and happiness. He really does have an amazing smile.

"It's a date," he said with a last quick kiss. "Just give me fifteen minutes to shower and change." Then he turned to leave and I watched that fine ass head out the door. I sighed blissfully. This was the best day of my life.

"Oh and Tom?" Chakotay paused to look over his shoulder at me with a mischievous grin. "Keep the handcuffs." He winked.

I gulped.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism is treasured as a rare gift.


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